


Paramour

by alitbitmoody



Series: Metamour [3]
Category: Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: (though Herbert does not realize the implication), Asexual Character, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Bisexual Male Character, Crushes, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Gay Ace Character, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Multi, Nerdiness, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory Negotiations, Relationship Negotiation, Study Date, homoromantic character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2020-03-02 17:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alitbitmoody/pseuds/alitbitmoody
Summary: Five weeks before the events of the "Miskatonic Massacre," Dan has a question for his new housemate.





	1. Chapter 1

"Dan, you're familiar with Ward's scheduling I take it?"

It takes Dan a moment to realize his housemate is 1) not in his room and 2) talking to him. Directly. Without a school administrator or cadaver to divert his attention. It takes him a few seconds more to ground himself (he's in his living room, not asleep, stripped down to a v-neck t-shirt because summer is holding fast in Arkham and the air conditioner still doesn't want to work... not dreaming) before he replies. 

"A bit. Why?"

"Would you mind deciphering this for me?" He hands Dan a copy of this week's schedule -- softened at the edges and wrinkled from frequent folding.

"Is his handwriting that bad?" 

"His penmanship is fine," West says, "Well, as fine as any medical professional's can feasibly be. But if he's assigned me any morgue hours this week, I don't see it."

Dan scans the table of names and shift times, bites down on a giggle when he picks out **"NORTHBYNORTH"** in Ward's skinny block letters. West, ever vigilant, spots it anyway.

"Is something _funny?_ "

"I think I found you." He grabs a pen from the table and highlights the dates before handing the schedule back. West's brow knits together, perplexed.

"That doesn't make... oh."

"Yeah, Ward's got kind of an odd sense of humor."

"Charming," he pauses, eyes scanning the page before holding it out for Dan's further review. "Which one are you?"

Dan peruses the grid, points to " **CANDY**."

Herbert... giggles. Slaps a hand over his mouth. Incongruous to the high formalities of his usual presentation. Dan feels almost light-headed at the sight.

"I don't suppose 'nova' occurred to him?” Herbert clears his throat, finally lowering his hand to scratch his chin, adjust his tie. “Or 'lido'?"

"A _lot_ of things have occurred to him," Dan smiles, self-deprecating. "This has already been the longest semester of my life."

They both laugh then -- a light chuckle, a nearly personal exchange. His housemate looks as perturbed by it as Dan is elated. After a few weeks of intermittent cohabitation, getting more than an observant hum from Herbert is an accomplishment on par with medical school admissions, the first time he watched the defibrillator restart a patient’s heartbeat, Meg’s eyes, shining and clear, the first time he got the courage up to ask her out on a date. He holds on to the moment (and eye contact with West) for a second too long.

"Well,” he replies, clearing his throat again. “I suppose I'll be off then. According to this, my next shift starts in less than an hour."

"Have fun," Dan replies.

"I'll be sure to tell them all hello for you."

 _Them_ meaning the corpses in the hospital morgue. It's a rare tease, drawing out the breathless laugh in his throat as his housemate dons his jacket and steps out.

Meg emerges from the kitchen a full minute after the front door closes, a bowl of ice cream in her hands, Rufus trilling at her ankles. Dan meets her gaze, still smiling, fading slightly as he takes in wide blue eyes.

"What?"

"You've got to be kidding me,” she says, shocked enough that Dan brings his arms up to fold across his chest; self-protective.

"Is something wrong?"

"Not... Dan, not _him_?”

He can feel the moment his adrenaline spikes: cortisol flooding his system, fear response, fight or flight, _caught_. All before he can remind himself that this is Meg. Meg, who is safe, who loves him, who will not judge him...  
  
“Dan! He's creepy!"

...much.

"I can't help it," he breathes, a hint of a laugh in his voice even as he feels the blood rush to his face; the light thrill of the last few minutes crashing out. "... it's a... Look, I didn’t expect it to happen."

"Is this why you--"

"No! It's not why I let him move in, I promise!” Though there had been a brief rush that first night, when he realized just who was on his doorstep and why. “It's just... he's brilliant. And I have a rich fantasy life. Weren't you the one that told me there was nothing wrong with it?"  
  
"He's not even your type! Is he?"

"I... don't think so?" he says, "I've never met anyone like him before. How would I know?"

"Look just...“ she sighs. 

"What?"

"I'm not saying no."

His eyes widen as he realizes what she's talking about. What they had talked about months ago and barely taken advantage of. 

It had almost been a pretense for him to talk dirty -- telling Meg what he wanted to do to a gorgeous guy they saw in the park or to the cute graduate assistant in pathology -- and watching her wriggle against the mattress or flip him on to his back and grind against his thigh. He didn't think that's what this was, not with Meg's persistent distaste for his roommate. 

"But you want to say no,” he ventures. “Hell, _he_ would say no! This is probably all in my head...”

The risks are different. Herbert doesn't strike him as the kind of person who would take a pass as a strike against their masculinity, only to be backed up by breaking Dan's nose. But he could choose to leave, throwing Dan back into the precarious position of finding a roommate to split the rent with (possibly with the reputation of sexually harassing his roommates). And with nearly two years of their program left and a shrinking number of residents working in the hospital, it could also leave them with an awkward relationship strained by proximity and a shared workplace.

Meg seems to spot the stress in his expression, moves in close, slides an arm around his waist that seems more like a brace than a cuddle. Designed to keep him upright and vertical.

"Look. Just... tread carefully there. Okay?" her voice is soft, comforting, pitching upward as he slides his own arm across her shoulders to turn it into a proper embrace. "I don't get it. I'm not going to pretend to get it either. He makes my skin crawl. You can... you _can_. If he’s up for it. But I don't want to be involved."

A beat, silence broken only by Rufus’s claws pawing at the back of the sofa, the hum of what might have been his roommate’s car as the engine came to life and he could hear the wet squeal of tires pull away up the street. He leans his chin on top of Meg’s head, a relieved sigh escaping as she continues to tolerate his hold and to hold back just as tightly. Secure, but unfettered. Not holding him in contempt nor judgment, just simply holding on.

"So...,” he breathes, relieved at the clarity and lack of tremble in his voice. “I take it that means you _don't_ want details?"

She slaps his arm a little too hard to be playful, but her giggling two seconds later eases the sharp sting quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star Trek and frozen pizza makes for a great study date. Even if West doesn’t quite know that’s what it is...

It's a non-issue for the next week. Dan sees Herbert in lectures, speaks to him just enough to pass him an extra pencil, sees a flash of him in his periphery passing in the hall at the hospital or a half-awake glance during an early morning coffee run in the kitchen. 

The appearance of him at the top of the basement stairs (after 9 o' clock at night) is a rare, full-bodied glance. 

"Hi." He watches as West eyes dart around, skeptically. “Are you looking for something?”

"The music stopped," he says, moving still a little further into the living room. “Is that _Star Trek_?"

Dan glances at the lit screen. He turned the television on to drown out the silence. 

"Uhhh yeah, it’s a Labor Day marathon. I let the TV run when I'm reading over my notes sometimes," he replies, curious _. "_ Do you... did you want to watch it?"

"Give me five minutes." The basement door slams abruptly.

Herbert emerges less than a minute later, footfalls on the stairs indicating he took them two-at a time. His jacket forgotten, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Dan swallows, schools his face like he's not enjoying a Victorian striptease. Fortunately, Herbert's own eyes are on the television and he doesn't notice.  
  
"I haven't watched _Star Trek_ in English in three years."

Dan smiles. “'Want some popcorn?”  
  
\--

He ends up throwing another bag in the microwave and pulling out a frozen pizza. Channel 11 appears to be airing a scattershot of episodes in no particular order, so _Devil in the Dark_ gives way to _Conscience of the King_ , then jumps ahead to _Spock’s Brain_ .  
  
“Did you forget to eat today?” He watches Herbert's face, looking for an affirmative answer. “…and yesterday?”  
  
Herbert blinks. Bingo. Dan tries not to stare as his housemate swipes a knuckle across his mouth to answer.  
  
“I tend to be highly focused. Occupational hazard.”  
  
“Work, work, work, and then crash," Dan nods. "Yeah, I’ve been there.”  
  
“Doubtful.”

Dan smirks, tries not to be offended.  
  
“This independent study you’ve been working on? Is it a continuation of what you were doing with Dr. Gruber?”  
  
“Something like that.”  
  
“Studying 'death.'”  
  
"You're missing the best part of the third-worst episode."  
  
“What are you talking about? This is the _worst_ episode.”  
  
“Wrong,” he replies, smugly. 

“It’s been voted worst episode countless times--”

“Opinion polls are notoriously capricious. Small sample size, rooted solely in mere preference and aesthetic. Unreliable.”  
  
Dan smiles, in spite of himself. "Okay, meatball. Tell me what's the worst episode?"

Herbert spends the next twenty minutes giving evidence and counterpoints for _Requiem for Methuselah_ being the second-worst, with _This Side of Paradise_ coming at the bottom of the list. His argument is very convincing. 

\--  
  
"Do I really pay the music that loud?" They've both got their notes out now -- Dan's half-finished outlines and Herbert's minute-to-minute details filling in the gaps. Between Herbert’s an eidetic memory and his own overview, they have a pretty decent study guide and index.  
  
"It's mostly the bass from the stereo system, I can hear it vibrating through the ceiling."  
  
"Oh, shit. Sorry about that."  
  
Herbert shakes his head. "It's a non-issue -- it doesn't bother me, it doesn't impact my work. But you do keep to a pretty regular schedule. I was curious when you deviated from it."  
  
“I usually listen to music when I’m studying on my own. When Meg comes over or I’m studying with other people, that small distraction is enough. When I’m alone, things go kind of sideways.”  
  
“Oh," Herbert nods thoughtfully. "I can’t say that I relate to that, but… I understand.”

He does not, but Dan still smiles around a bite of too-cold pepperoni and too-hot mozzarella.  
  
\--

By the time they've finished the pizza, Dan has converted their combined notes into a set of flash cards. Mid-term exams are several weeks away, but Spring registration is coming up and, he reasons aloud to Herbert, that it never hurts to give your advisers an early heads-up of where your problem areas are. 

Of course, Herbert himself doesn't seem to have that issue, rattling off correct answer after correct answer.  
  
"You know this already!"  
  
"Clearly," he smirks, smug. 

"Smart-ass. You can quiz me, then," he hands Herbert the stack of cards.

"Fine," his roommate takes the cards, proceeds to shuffle, re-shuffle, and obsessively line up the cards into a symmetrical stack.  
  
He doesn't have as many correct answers as Herbert, but his study partner doesn't call him out for it. Just smug but oddly gentle correction (or maybe that's him projecting, his brain teeming with oxytocin as his crush re-enacts every fantasy he'a had about his biology tutors from junior high to Johns Hopkins).  
  
"You know you're brilliant, right?" he says, smiling when his house mate's hands pause mid-reshuffle. "With your credentials, you must have had your pick of schools for transfer over here -- why'd you choose Miskatonic?"

"I was interested in meeting Hill," Herbert replies, looking up from the cards. "And in making his life miserable."

"Well, you're making good headway on that. Though you’re running through pencils at an exponential rate. Maybe switch to a white noise machine secreted somewhere in the lab?"

"The purpose isn’t to drive _me_ crazy." Herbert argues, making Dan laugh as the cards abruptly fly all over the coffee table.

\--

  
_Amok Time._ The downfall of any and all of Dan's discussions with fellow Trekkies. No conversation he has ever had regarding this episode ends well. But it's two in the morning, he's full of pizza, brain-fried from neurosurgery revisions, and Herbert, against all expectations, hasn't rolled down his sleeves or run back down to the basement yet. 

Maybe this time will be different. 

"As forward-thinking as they were about everything else, I feel like _Star Trek_ may have missed a larger point here."  
  
"Meaning?"  
  
"Why does he have to choose _anyone_ ? It's the 23rd century, shouldn't monogamy be extinct?"  
  
Maybe it's a good question (though he's had quite a few people in his past tell him it is _not_ ). Or maybe Herbert is just tired enough to not find it -- and him -- tedious.  
  
"I hardly think antiquated relationship models enter into it. Sturgeon frames it as a biological imperative."  
  
"Yeah, but it's arguably a biological imperative that Vulcans have channeled into a seven-year ritual through sheer force of will. Even if his own will can't shut it off, why does he have to participate?"  
  
"Well, the biological imperative isn't exactly arbitrary -- he's dying."  
  
"The arranged marriage is arbitrary."  
  
"On that, we can agree. It's hardly practical, given the life and career he's chosen. If he was going to opt out, he should should have opted out of all of it. As for the biological imperative, he could theoretically have that taken care of long before they ever reach the planet. There's 300 other crewmen on board the ship."  
  
"Exactly." Dan says, a hint of a laugh bleeding through. "Though, I suppose there is family disappointment to contend with."  
  
"I'm told the majority family relationships bend towards disappointment anyway, no matter what choices one makes."  
  
"I wouldn't know," he sighs. The emptiness he feels is an old friend, though more remote in the last few years since he met Meg. What was once a cold sweep of wind threatening to encircle him is now little more than a breeze at his back.  
  
It takes him a moment to realize he's not the only one who's paused for quiet reflection.  
  
"I did once," Herbert echos. "Not now."

A beat.

"How old were you?" Dan asks.  
  
"How old was I when?"  
  
"When they died."  
  
"Young. It's irrelevant."  
  
"I was young, too," Dan replies.  
  
"Young enough that there are no memories?" Herbert looks up. "Pre-toddler age?"  
  
Dan nods. "Car accident. I was almost two years old. My aunts took care of me after that."

“Personal questions, Dan. This could get dangerous.”  
  
“Probably more awkward than dangerous," he smiles, turning so that he's facing his house mate. "I'm difficult to embarrass, West. Just let me know if we need a time-out."  
  
“Did you start dating the dean’s daughter for personal or professional reasons?”

“Personal. You don't like her -- is that personal or professional?”

"Neither. I don't know her in a professional capacity and I dislike most people personally. Why did you choose Miskatonic?"

"Quirk of fate -- I don't even remember applying. The two other places I applied to never sent me a yes or a no, but the university sent me a really attractive package and flew a recruiter out to sweeten the deal."

"Miss Halsey?"

"Stella Peaslee," he smiles. "You're not far off though -- Stella's her cousin. Or second-cousin, third removed. Something like that. Now _I_ get two questions: do you like me?"

"I don't know enough about this town yet, but many of the long-time residents appear to be related in one way or another. They probably need new residents to come in once in a while to vary the blood line," his smirk is brief. Dan's starting to wonder if it's a nervous reflex. "Yes. Professionally and personally."

His chest tightens at the answer, heart skipping, urging him to go for broke. Because when is this opportunity going to come again?  
  
"Are you gay?"

He thinks for a moment, the way Herbert freezes, the way time seems to slow down, his brow furrowed in confusion and Dan's in abrupt terror.  
  
"West?"

“...I never considered it.”

“What?”

"Orientation. For there to be a consensus of attraction, I would had to have considered it in the first place."

"But.. you do?" he asks, feeling his cheeks flood with warmth, mortified even as he presses. "Feel attraction?"

He jerks up from the couch and Dan half raises his arm, a fear response deep in his hind brain telling him to protect his head and face, because men confronted with questions like tend to go straight to "fight" in fight or flight.

Except Herbert's not running. Or punching. 

He hopes that's a good sign.

"Pass me my notebook," he says, oddly calm. Professional.

"Sure," Dan says, grabbing the moleskin from the coffee table and holding it out to him. "What are you doing?"

"Compiling data, to determine a consensus. I'll have an answer for you shortly."

And just like that, Herbert is off the couch and Dan is alone again.

\--

The answer arrives four hours later. The marathon is over. The sun's peeking in through the broken, not cat-proof mini-blinds, casting the Dan's bedroom in intermittent stripes of gold. He's stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and lazing on the bed when there's a soft knock at the door. Rufus trills as he gets up and moves to open the door.

Herbert is standing on the other side, notebook and pen in hand.

"Consensus."

"Yes?"

"I _do_ feel attraction, more aesthetic than sexual. The latter is very, _very_ infrequent but not insignificant. All the more significant for when I do feel it. Disproportionately men."

"So...?"

"Experience, either past or future, is not proportionate to attraction and plays no role in either its validation or nullification. It's all irrelevant. However, the answer I believe you were initially looking for to your initial question is ‘yes.’"  
  
Dan stares, hopes his face is emoting anything other than stupid relief and remote hope.  
  
"Now," he says, voice clipped, poised to dismiss. "Do you have any other questions?"

"Are you busy tomorrow night?"

That seems to throw him. Hazel eyes widen, face gone very still. Delayed reaction.

"My shift at the hospital is until six."

"7 o'clock movie?"

"I'm at a critical stage in my research."

"It's over at ten." He actually doesn’t know that, considering he doesn't have a specific movie in mind. He will _find_ a movie that fits that time frame. Something his house mate might sit still for. Like _Wrath of Khan_ . Or a _National Geographic_ special. 

"You’re dating Miss Halsey."

"We’re engaged. And we have an arrangement…” For anyone else a vague hand gesture combined with silence may have been enough. Not here. 

"...I see."

“You said so yourself: monogamy is antiquated. Is that a yes or a no?”

Herbert's face freezes and the door abruptly shuts -- but doesn't slam -- between them.

Dan smiles.

It's a date, then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we know how Dan came to Arkham. *cue Twilight Zone theme* Stella Peaslee, as denoted by her surname, is a nod to Lovecraft's _The Shadow Out of Time_. Based on the timeline, she's likely Wingate's daughter or grand-daughter and, therefore, as tied to Miskatonic and Arkham as Meg is.
> 
> Yes, all of my original characters in this series are women (take that, Howard).

**Author's Note:**

> Ward's punny nicknames is another lift from the Jeff Rovin novelization (that book is a gift that keeps on giving. And also kind of terrible).
> 
> Meg and Dan are good, giving and game in an era before that’s widely understood. And if it was going to be anywhere, Arkham is... still probably not the _ideal_ place for such an arrangement (they’ll work it out).


End file.
